Sold to the Billionaire: A Virgin Auction Romance

by Lila Younger

  I’m ready at six on the dot, and Spencer arrives not a moment later in a silver Bentley pulls up. I’m surprised. I didn’t think he’d come all this way to pick me up. I open up the door, and the way he looks at me takes my breath away.

  “Come in,” he says in a throaty voice.

  I sink into the soft leather seat, and we take off. The ride is smooth, and I can’t hear the engine. It’s almost like being in a cloud, compared to my own clunker. I lean back, feeling the seat mold to my body. This is amazing.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “You’ll see,” is the only answer I get.

  Spencer speeds off, and I take the time putting on my seatbelt to peek at him. He’s looks so good again, this time in a black suit and dark shirt that makes the brilliant green in his eyes immediately noticeable. His hair is pushed back, tamed down in a way that makes me want to run my hands through it. He looks better than I remembered, reviving that deep ache between my thighs. Somehow he’s so good looking it’s hard to believe he’s real, and yet, here he is.

  He places a hand on my thigh, and a jolt of electricity passes between us. I look at him, wondering if he feels it too. But he stays perfectly calm, asking me if I got home okay and if the clothes fit me well. Small talk really.

  Before long, we pull up to the valet parking at the restaurant. It’s French food, and fancy, something I’ve never had before in my life. Nobody even asks us who we are because they already know. The restaurant boasts one of the best views of the Strip, and we are quickly led to the best table there is. It’s a panoramic view, the bright lights of the Strip beckoning. I can see why people believe in the magic of Sin City. That Vegas is more thrilling, more entertaining, more of everything, than life back home. Lights blaze into the night sky, lights that won’t turn off until the sun rises again the next morning.

  A waiter comes up to Spencer, bows, shows him the wine label, and proceeds to pour some into our glasses. Everything gleams, from the wine glasses to the silver cutlery, to the candle holders at the center of the table. Spencer orders for the both of us, which is good, because the whole menu is in French, and I have no clue what it means. The waiter bows again and departs.

  We’re alone with each other. Spencer seems perfectly content to gaze at me, but nerves compel me to fill up the air.

  “So…” I say, without any idea what I should follow it with.

  “Tell me a bit about yourself Tessa.”

  “About me?” I ask, surprised that he wants to know.

  “Yes. I’d very much like to know more about you.”

  I take a sip of wine, more to stall than anything else. I can’t think of anything interesting about myself that he’d want to know, to be perfectly honest.

  “I, uh, I’m a student,” I offer. “I’m an accounting major. I work at a call center right now, which I hate. I live with my mom.”

  I also sound incredibly boring, I realize. I sit up and try to rally my thoughts.

  “I’m very bad at cooking. I’m impatient, which has definitely led me to make some bad decisions in my life. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes for the people I care about.”

  “And is this one of those things you’re willing to do?” he asks me.

  I look back at him evenly.

  “Yes, that’s right,” I say defiantly, because he probably can put two and two together. Our crappy apartment is a dead giveaway that my family’s not exactly rolling in dough. But that has nothing to do with Spencer.

  Something flickers past his eyes, but before I can figure it out, it’s gone again.

  “I didn’t figure you for an accountant,” he says instead.

  “No?” I find this hard to believe. This is a man who calculates every move, who would never go into a situation where he isn’t in control of all of it. “What did you think I studied?”

  He pauses, gives me that piercing look again. I force myself to look back, to not let him get the best of me in this, even if he is making my stomach jump up and down.

  “Something creative,” he says. “Am I close?”

  “Yes,” I say pursing my lips. “But we couldn’t afford lessons.”

  I don’t want to go further, about my hopes and dreams of a music career that could never happen now, because I realize we’re getting pretty personal. I don’t want to do personal. This isn’t a date. We aren’t supposed to get to know one another. The lines get blurry that way, and nothing good comes of something like that. It’s better if I keep my hopes and dreams to myself.

  Our food comes out, beautifully plated. Our conversation stops as the waiter checks to ensure everything is to Spencer’s liking, and then he departs. As if sensing my reluctance, Spencer moves on. He’s a surprisingly easy dinner companion to talk too, well versed in everything from pop culture, to the arts, from food to politics and business. He doesn’t try to preach or lecture when I don’t understand, and when I speak, he listens, hanging onto my every word. I find myself relaxing and enjoying this, even though I know I shouldn’t.

  When our dinner finishes, I figure that we’ll go back to his place so he can take my virginity. I thought that would be what he’d want. But to my surprise, not only do we not go home, but we end up at the Las Vegas Philharmonic. Yet another thing that Belmont Holdings has bought and rebuilt in this city. Out of everything in this town, and he manages to pick the one thing that I’ve been dying to go to? And on opening night, no less?

  “How’d you know?” I ask, as we step outside the car.

  Spencer passes the keys to the valet, and holds out an arm to escort me inside.

  “A suspicion, confirmed when you said that you would have enjoyed a creative pursuit,” he replies.

  “You can get tickets like this at the last minute?”

  “I can get anything, anywhere,” he says, turning to me. His voice is firm, edged with something that makes it clear he isn’t only referring to concert tickets.

  The hall is filled with women in elegant dresses and men in suits. Spencer leads the way, taking a side route across the main hall that would allow most people to miss his presence. I guess it wouldn’t do to be seen here with an escort on your arm. I wonder why he isn’t worried about someone at the restaurant blabbing, and then I realize that there was a good possibility that he owns the restaurant. His father is revered as the man who brought the Strip to life, and Spencer’s only made Las Vegas even better. He’s almost like royalty, I think.

  We head up the stairs, toward the private boxes, and of course, he’s got one of the best. There’s a manservant standing at attention by the door, whom Spencer sends away with just a slight shake of his head. He opens the door for me, and I release his arm to walk through. The hall is just as beautiful as I imagined, with gorgeous gold overlay woodwork around the stage. Rows of plush red seats line the floor, and the balconies of the private boxes flank either side of the hall. People are starting to take their seats.

  There’s a copy of the program on my seat, and I pick it up to see. It looks like tonight there’s going to be a trio of songs, from Classical composers. Not my favorite area of music, but I know it’s going to be wonderful just because we are here in the concert hall. We both sit down, and in just a few minutes, the hall fills up, and the show begins. I lean forward in my chair, eager to see what’s going on. The first piece is Schumann’s Symphony no. 2, a piece that begins peacefully, but soon becomes turbulent. The music washes over me, the sound clear and soaring, moody and rebellious. Music has an effect on my mood, like I’m sure it does for many, and this one is bringing out my feelings toward my current situation: at first straightforward, but becoming more complicated as things progress.

  “You’re not enjoying this,” Spencer says, cutting through my thoughts.

  I turn towards him, and his expression is serious.

  “No, I mean, I am,” I tell him. “I’m very happy to be here.”

  “What is it?” he asks plainly. “Are you cold? Do you need something?”

/>   I open my mouth and close it. I’m not sure the best way to formulate my thoughts. I get the feeling that he’s used to snapping his fingers and people jumping to solve his problems, but this isn’t quite so easy. Or is it? This whole thing rests on him. And short of asking him about it, how will you ever know Tessa?

  “I’m just wondering when you’re going to take my virginity.”

  He raises an eyebrow.

  “It just seems… strange to be going out like this. Having dinner together, going to the orchestra. I thought it would have finished by now.”

  “So you aren’t enjoying this,” he says. “Very well. If you want, we could finish this now.”

  He places a hand on my leg, pushing up the hem of my dress. His fingers trace circles over my creamy skin.

  “You mean leave?” I ask, my heart suddenly beating double time.

  “We don’t need to leave.”

  Spencer’s voice is a low growl, and I can tell even in the dim light that he’s rock hard. The idea of having sex in the open is turning him on, even though it has me terrified. His hand travels upward, and my whole body is trembling, wondering if he’s going to actually do this. The lights are dimmed, but someone across the way would see us if we were to actually have sex here… wouldn’t they?

  “It would be a pleasure to take you here,” he says, his breath hot against my ear. “I’d bend you over that balcony, and see if your screams are louder than the symphony below. If someone will pause and look up for a moment at the pleasure written clear across your face.”

  No, he wouldn’t take that sort of risk. Would he?

  “The risk is part of the fun,” he says, answering that question.

  “You’ve done this before?” my voice comes out as a quavering whisper.

  “I’ve yet to be caught,” he says, and the smile he gives me is like a shark, honing in on his prey.

  I feel helpless, drawn towards him. My whole body leans into his touch, wanting more. His eyes lock with mine, and I draw what strength I have.

  “Fine by me then,” I say, feigning courage. “Let’s do this.”

  He pulls my arm forward, and I fall down onto my knees in front of him. In front of his cock, tenting up the fabric of his pants. He’s huge, straining hard against the zipper, and I cautiously place a hand on him. Oh man, what have I gotten myself into? At least the floor beneath me is plush carpet. I won’t have sore knees after this. Slowly, as if I’m going up against a wild animal, I undo his button, pull down the zipper to see my very first real cock. He’s… big. And wide too. Larger than any of the toys they had at Honey Foxes. I lick my lips, unsure of exactly how I’m supposed to even fit the thing in my mouth.

  Spencer pulls my head towards him, and I wrap a hand around his cock. It’s literally pulsing, hot and hard as I give him a slow tug. A pearly drop of precum beads on his head, and I lean in to delicately lick it off. I’m rewarded with a groan from above me, his hand on the back of my head pushing me back so that I lick him again. It’s salty and musky, and my pussy tightens instinctively. I’m getting wet just tasting him. I carefully swirl my tongue around the rim of the reddened tip, getting bolder as I discover just how much I like this taste of him.

  “Put my cock in your mouth,” he orders. “Suck me.”

  I open up obediently, as wide as I can, and lower my mouth over the flared head. Spencer groans again, and I use my tongue to lap at the slit, drawing more of his precum out. I have to use both my hands, and even then I’m not covering his whole erection, as I move up and down. His cock twitches in my mouth, extending even longer as I move up and down. He glides easily down, until gets almost to the back of my throat.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register that the symphony has moved on to the next movement. All the while, I’m here, sucking Spencer Belmont’s cock. His hand tightens, and I realize I’ve slowed down. I roll my lips over his shaft, my tongue swirling over the sensitive tip as I move up and down. I bob up and down, moving my top half so that I can take as much of him as possible each time. He’s warm and slippery in my hands, and I hope I’m doing it right. His hand guides me, pushing me down as his hips move upwards into my mouth, angling me so that he can hit the back of my throat. Tears spring to my eyes, and I look up in shock, but the bliss on his face is enough to keep me going.

  “Just like that,” he says, pleasure softening his voice. “Perfect.”

  I surrender to his wants, letting him set the pace as his cock repeatedly hits the back of my throat. I reflexively clench, and the feeling makes him hiss every time. I suck his cock in deeply, sealing my lips over his shaft, making him swear under his breath. Seeing him like this, in my mouth, taking the pleasure he wants from me, turns me on. I whimper, desire curling in my pussy, dripping down my thighs. I’m so turned on, and I wish I could satisfy my own aching need too. Spencer is fucking my face hard now, his hips are bucking clean off the seat, pushing and pulling me along, and his whole body tightens, his balls lifting, and he releases, his cum spurting hot and thick into my mouth. I gag, surprised, but his iron grip on my head makes it impossible to do anything but swallow.

  “Take all of it,” he tells me, and I do, coaxing every drop out of him with my hands, swallowing every delicious drop.

  Spencer relaxes his hold on me, and I release his cock, still half hard. I breathe in deep gulps of air, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. The look he gives me is satisfied, sated, and I feel a deep glow of pleasure that I’m the one to put that look on his face. I realize that the symphony has ended too.

  Suddenly there’s a bang at the door, and I jump up. I can only imagine what my hair looks like, messed up from Spencer’s hands, my mouth red, my dress hiked up so I could kneel down between his legs. He tucks himself away, zips up in one fluid motion, just as the man from earlier opens the door.

  “Sir,” he says importantly, holding a bottle of some fancy alcohol. “A gift from Mr. Rosenthal.”

  I have no idea who that is, but Spencer nods his head in acknowledgement.

  “Shall I pour you both a glass?”

  “There will be no need. I think we’re finished here,” he says.

  There’s a sparkle in his eye, and I wonder what would have happened if the man had shown up just half a minute earlier.

  “I’ll have it sent back to your home then,” the man says, bowing deeply.

  “Excellent.”

  I wish the man would go away, but he lingers. I feel like he knows what I’ve just done, like maybe it’s been written on my forehead. Just gave a blowjob.

  “Is there anything else I could do for you?” he asks.

  “Not necessary,” Spencer says. “We were about to leave.”

  He stands up and holds out a hand to me. I take it, and I try not to look anything but serene as Spencer leads me through the door. I have no idea how he can look so calm and poised, because I feel like there’s a storm raging inside of me still.

  Chapter 6

  After the concert, Spencer drops me back home, only kissing me before I get out of the car. He even waits until I go through the apartment doors before he leaves. If I didn’t know better, I’d say we went on our very first date, but that couldn’t be right. I don’t know what he’s waiting for, and to be honest, I’m a little afraid to ask. I want him badly, that much is clear, but if he takes my virginity, that would mean the end of things. He’d have what he wants, and he’s free to go on to the next virgin that comes along. And a part of me isn’t quite ready for everything to end. There are so many layers to him, and I want to know as much about him as I do his body.

  So instead of asking, I stay quiet. I let him kiss me, his tongue brushing against mine, his hand possessively cupping my soaked pussy before bidding me goodnight. His eyes are blazing, but even now, he holds himself back. It’s perplexing.

  “When will I see you again?” I ask quietly.

  “In a few days. I have something special planned. Something fitting of your first time,” he promises. “I loo
k forward to seeing you again.”

  He says it so plainly that I have no doubts he’s being sincere, but it surprises me nonetheless. Because I would have thought this would be a business transaction, a cut and dry affair, as ruthlessly executed as all the other deals he’s made on the Strip that have placed him at the very top of Vegas’ hierarchy. There are so many tales about him, including ones my mom has told me, about how tightly he runs his hotels and casinos, how he flattens any opposition, envisions things on a scale grander than anyone else can imagine, and turn them into successes too. In the face of all that ambition, it seems surprising that he would want anything to do with me, a girl who can’t even chase her own dreams of becoming a musician, graduate school, take care of her mother.

  Why is he dragging this out?

  The question bothers me, long after he’s driven away. The apartment is quiet when I open the door, which I’m very grateful for. Mom’s left a lamp on for me, but she’s already gone to bed. Probably for the best, because she would probably raise an eyebrow if she saw Spencer Belmont. Almost everyone in Vegas is familiar with his face. What happened tonight was…hot. Very hot.

  I creep down the hallway to my bedroom, opening and closing it very quietly so I don’t wake my poor mom. My room is dark, but I know it well enough that I can easily slip out and hang up my gown before collapsing in bed. I think back to what we did, to the way Spencer tightened his hands in my hair, the way his whole body tightened, the taste of his cum still on my tongue. I reach down between my legs, my fingers pressing down on my wet panties, rubbing my growing clit.

  I remember his cock growing in my mouth, the soft heat, the hard length, the way his eyes flashed when I looked up at him, blinking away tears as he rammed his cock down my throat. I push the soaked fabric aside, dip my fingers inside my puffy lips. I close my eyes, thinking about how his gaze grew sharp and fierce when he first saw me in the gown he picked out for me, sheathing my curves. I’m getting wetter, cream coating my fingers as I rub myself, reaching deeper inside my body. I can’t have Spencer yet, but I need relief, tonight.